The Thomas Wayne Chronicles
by P.J. Lowry
Summary: With his son in the grave and his wife committed to Arkham, Thomas Wayne has no choice to but move forward or be consumed by the darkness...
1. Chapter 1

When they entered the alley through the back door from the theatre, it was more of a shame than an incontinence as they play they had left was just getting to Thomas' favorite part. Yet his son was only ten years old, so he had to understand that not all kids his age could appreciate something as amazing and articulate as the opera. So when Bruce had asked to leave early, Thomas Wayne had relented. His son had a bad fall just a week earlier, so both he and his wife had been babying the boy just a bit more than usual. Martha had been extra touchy, hugging and kissing the boy to the point where it was almost embarrassing. Thomas put an arm around his son's shoulders, just to save him from anther barrage of affection from his mother. Despite their early exit from the theatre, they were all still in a rather good mood. Thomas was seriously considering taking the family out for ice-cream on the way home, but the thought was dashed as quickly as a man came out of the darkness and pointed a gun at them.

"I don't want to hurt you," the man said, his voice shaking. "Just give me your wallet, your purse and all your jewelry!"

Thomas raised his hands, and took a step to the side to protect his child with his own body. "I'll give you anything you want, please don't hurt anyone."

"Just hurry up!" the crook called out, as he grew impatient.

"I'm getting it now," Thomas said as he pulled out his walled and offered it to the man with the gun.

The man instead was looking at the pearl necklace that was hanging around Martha's neck. He reached out for it and that's when things took a turn for the worse. Thomas' rage got the best of him and he grabbed the man's arm and proceeded to crack the man in the face with a hard right punch. The punch was solid, sending the crook staggering back several feet. Once the fog was gone, the man pointed the gun at Thomas and tried to shoot him. With amazing cat like reflexes, Thomas shifted to his left the bullet missed him. Thomas charged the man and slapped the gun out of his hand, which sent it flying into the wet pavement. Without hesitation or regard for his oath as a doctor, Wayne started to beat the man as if he as Mike Tyson. Attacking both the body and head, Thomas started to beat that piece of filth as if he owned him money. With each punch, Thomas' hands started to bruise and even show traces of blood as the crook's face was bleed from his nose and lip. He had beaten the man half to death when a loud cry caught Thomas' attention. It as Martha, and that cause her husband to turn back to see what had happened. Martha was on her knees but she seemed unharmed, but it was the boy lying on the ground that caused the man's heart to skip a beat. There was only one shot, and it hit the boy. Thomas dropped the man like a sack of potatoes and he came running down the alley to give his son medical attention. Wayne checked the boy and it was brutal. The shot had hit him clean in the middle of his chest and he was bleeding badly. Thomas did everything he possibly could to stop the bleeding but it was out of control.

"Martha, find someone to call an ambulance!" Thomas ordered, but there was no response from his wife. She was clearly in shock, and that was perfectly normal considering the trauma she was experiencing.

"Martha, snap out of it!" Thomas called out again, and still no response.

Thomas continued to work on the boy, but his heart had stopped beating. He started to give the child CPR but after doing that for what seems like an hour but was only ten minutes, it was over. Any other person in the O.R. would have been declared dead in half that time after they flat lined. Thomas stopped working on the boy and instead took the small hand beside him into his own. That was always his favorite part, holding the boy's hand and marveling at how much smaller it was in comparison. Now that hand was cold, and dead. A tear ran down Wayne's face as he had to accept the horrible truth that his child was gone.

Martha was on her knees on Bruce's other side, as still as a statue with her hand up to her mouth. As she pulled her hand away she was stunned to realize that her son's blood was all over it. She had placed the hand over her mouth, and now his blood was all around her mouth as well, looking like someone did a terrible paint job on her face. She continued to stay on her knees, looking at the blood on her hand and then she made a sound. At first Thomas thought she was crying, but as the sound became louder and louder with each passing second he realized she was doing something else entirely.

She was laughing.

Laughing like an evil villain out of the movies, dark and sinister.

He stared at the woman who was now grinning from ear to ear... mocking the very tragedy that layed before them. Thomas looked across at her with a look of shock in his own face now as he watched the woman continue to laugh endlessly as if this entire ordeal was nothing more than a sick joke. As a doctor Thomas had no trouble diagnosing what had happened to the woman he loved: her brain had snapped like a twig. The only thing he saw in her future was a one way ticket to Arkham. In a matter of minutes and a single gunshot, Thomas had lost his entire family.

She was still laughing when the police arrived on the scene. The crook had fled the scene and was nowhere to be found. Bruce watched as the boy was placed into a stretcher and fully covered with the white sheet. He then watched in horror as the woman was being dragged kicking and screaming to the car, even biting one of the officers and then laughing at his blood too. Once both cars had taken off, Thomas was taken away by one of the officers so that he could make a statement at the station. The long night was only just beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

Thomas sat there in the middle of the station. He was surrounded by desks, as many criminals were being checked in and out, processed or released. It had been raining so one of the officers had put a blanket around his shoulders as Thomas was being brought into the station. He was also holding a mug that was filled with the most awful coffee he had ever drunk, but it was warm. He waited patiently until someone finally sat down beside him. The man was rather close to Thomas' age, was wearing glasses and tried to be friendly as he sat down.

"Would you like a refill?" he softly asked.

"One is enough," Thomas replied, "I believe a second mug is cruel and unusual punishment, which is against the Geneva Conventions."

"Yeah, it's quite bad." The man admitted, "Sorry about that."

"It's fine," Thomas said, as he really didn't care.

"Mr. Wayne," the man said, trying to get back on track. "My name is Detective Jim Gordon. I just need to take your statement and we'll get you out of here as soon as possible."

"You're not charging me?" Thomas asked.

"No, we're not." Gordon replied, pausing for a moment. "The man attacked you and your family. I probably would have done the same in your shoes."

"Are you sure about that?" Thomas asked. "I probably wouldn't do the same thing if I had a chance to do it over."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Wayne." Gordon said, sighing. "I can't imagine what you're going through."

"Where's my wife?" Thomas asked, wanting to change the subject.

"She's at the General," Jim replied, "Admitted to the psych ward, but she'll be treated there. She will not see Arkham unless it's absolutely necessary."

"It might be necessary," Thomas said, taking the last gaud awful sip out of the mug. "Her mind snapped like a twig. She took that a lot worse than I did."

"We can take your statement later if you're tired," Gordon said, trying to be sympathetic to the man before him.

"No, that's alright." Thomas said, "I'd prefer to get it over with today rather than have to come back later. No offense, Jim."

"None taken," Jim said, trying to be supportive. "So you were watching the opera that night."

"Yes, but the show spooked my boy," Thomas replied, "So we left early and took the back entrance so our leaving wouldn't disrupt the show. Usually women get mad when you leave early, but Martha was very understanding. She's a good woman."

"So what happened next?" Jim asked him.

"That's when this punk came out of nowhere and stuck a gun in my face." Thomas said, as his voice shook as he remembered it. "He asked for my watch and my wallet and I told him he could have it. I never said no to him."

"So when did the fight begin?" Gordon asked him.

"He tried to grab Martha's pearls," Thomas answered, "I know they're just pearls but I gave them to her the day I proposed. It was a knee jerk reaction, I should have let that turd take them."

"So that's when you grabbed him?" Jim asked.

"I caught him off guard and clocked the bastard," Thomas explained, "He stumbled back and that's when I ran for him."

"And how many shots were fired?" Gordon inquired.

"Just one," Thomas informed him, "But that was all it took to change my world. He was aiming for me and I jumped out of the way. Biggest mistake I ever made."

"Excuse me?" Jim asked.

"He only got one shot off," Thomas explained, "And that was the one shot that killed my boy. If I knew that's where the bullet was going, I would have stood my ground and took it for him. I feel like such a coward, and now I've lost my only child."

"You said it yourself," Jim reminded him, "You didn't know where it was going. You were defending your child, and you were trying to stay alive for sole purpose of protecting them. It's not your fault that you child died. The man who pulled the trigger is the only one to blame. I'm going to talk to the D.A. and make sure he gets the chair for this, and I hope he rots in hell for the pain he's caused you Mr. Wayne."

Thomas looked back at the detective. "I hope so too... but it won't make a difference. It won't bring back my boy... or my wife."

"She might recover," Jim said, trying to give hope. "She'll need your help."

"I'm a mess myself," Thomas admitted, "Things are never going to be the same."

"Time will help, Mr. Wayne." Gordon assured him, "Give it time."

"Do I need a lawyer?" Thomas said, realizing what he did to that thug.

"No Mr. Wayne, you do not." Jim answered, "In fact, you're free to go. You're not being charged with anything at this time. You were clearly defending yourself from an attacker. I will not recommend charges and I'm confident the D.A. won't either. We would however like your co-operation to prosecute the man that killed your son."

"You'll have it," Thomas muttered, "That you can count on."

"There's a man here to pick you up," Jim informed him, "He claims to work for you... Mr. Pennyworth?"

"Yes, that's my butler." Thomas said, as he had forgotten about him.

"I'm sorry for your loss Mr. Wayne," Gordon said as he stood up at the same time as Thomas did. He also handed over his card. "If you remember anything else, I can help you update your statement. If you need help with anything, please do not hesitate to ask."

Thomas reached over and took the card, and then seconds later he shook the man's hand. "Thank you, Jim."

Jim watched as the man walked away and out of the squad room. In the hallway leading outside there was a well dressed man standing there and he was holding an extra dry coat as he waited.

"Master Wayne," the man said as he held the coat open for him.

"Alfred," Thomas said as he took the blanket off and let it drop the floor before slipping his arms into the new coat. "Thank you for coming."

"I heard everything," the butler replied, "I'm so sorry. I wish I could have been there to help."

"I appreciate that Al," Thomas said, taking a deep breath. "Right now I want to go home and rest."

"Of course Master Wayne," Alfred replied as he gestured to the door. "I have a car waiting outside. Let's get you away from this horrid place."


	3. Chapter 3

Despite the efforts of his best lawyers, Martha Wayne was committed to Arkham. Once there she was put under the highest security as she was deemed a threat to others as well as herself. She wasn't even granted a day pass to attend Bruce's funeral. Thomas was disappointed by the result of his efforts, but understood this decision was made without pride or prejudice. Martha's mind had snapped, and she had gone completely mental. Right now she wasn't safe to be around, and Thomas was sad about that as he wanted to give her a chance to say goodbye to her son.

Because of the legal jousting, Bruce's funeral was delayed a few weeks but eventually moved ahead almost a full month after he was shot. Thomas didn't mind the delay as it allowed him a chance to get his head straight so he could be cold as ice and not show emotion at the services. There were a lot of people attending the service as Bruce was put to ground at the small cemetery that was beside Wayne Manor. Thomas had considered burying him with Martha's family in town, but chose to keep him close so he could visit as often as he wanted. Many of the people th4ere didn't even know Bruce, but where there to support Thomas in his darkest days. Thomas hadn't been back to work a single day, and that had people in the city as well on Wall Street talking about the stability of Wayne Enterprises.

It was a quick service, and when it was all over, people walked over to toss flowers into the plot or give their condolences to Thomas himself. There was only one other child at the funeral, a young girl that was Bruce's age. She walked over and took Thomas' hand and smiled up at him.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Wayne." She said to him, "I liked Bruce very much."

"Thank you, Rachel." Thomas said, as that was the only time he was close to tears as he held the little girl's hand. "I liked him too."

Her mother quickly walked up because she thought the girl was bugging him.

"It's fine," Thomas said, as he actually appreciate the girl's support. "I wanted to speak with you anyway, Ms. Dawes."

"What is it, Mr. Wayne?" Rachel's mother asked.

"I have a trust fund that I started the day Bruce was born," Thomas explained, "I have been donating to it every month since he was born. I considered donating it to charity, but with your permission I'd like to give it to Rachel."

"Mr. Wayne!" her mother said, shocked. "Why do you want to do this?"

"I was saving it for Bruce's education," Thomas said, "I would still like it to be spend on higher learning, so I'd like to give it to Rachel so she doesn't have to worry about paying for her post-secondary education. She could go anywhere she wants if she puts the work in and that's what it was meant for."

"Thank you Mr. Wayne!" her mother said, giving him a hug.

"It's my pleasure," Thomas said as he then spotted someone else he wanted to speak with. "If you'll excuse me."

Thomas walked away from the Rachel and her mother, over to a blonde haired man that was around his age and wearing glasses.

"Thomas," the man said, as they shook hands. "My deepest condolences."

"Thank you, Earle." Thomas replied, "Thanks for covering my work over at the company in my absence. Your support and understanding is greatly appreciated. How are things going with our company?"

"I didn't come here to talk shop," Earle answered, trying to be respectful. "I don't think that would be appropriate."

"Probably not," Thomas agreed, "But I'm asking you, and I'm doing it now to save me the trip into town later to check in myself."

"Things are well," Earle informed him, "The initial shock from the incident is subsiding, and the counseling we brought in has helped a great deal. Is there anything specific you wanted to discuss?"

"Yes, there is." Thomas said as he took Earle's arm and walked him aside for a little privacy. "Do you remember that talk we had a few months ago. The one where I almost fired you for suggesting we take the company public on the stock market?"

"Yes, I do." Earle recalled, "You threw a chair at me."

"Well, I've had a change of heart." Thomas confessed.

"You have?" Earle asked, as he could hardly believe it.

"My priorities are changing," Thomas informed him, "So not only do I want you to take over as CEO in a more permanent basis, I want you take the company public like you had proposed months ago."

"What percent of the company would you like to open to the public?" Earle asked as Thomas now has his full attention.

"All of it," Thomas answered, "With share holders to answer to instead of me, the company will be in better hands and everyone's job will be more secure, don't you think?"

"Yes," Earle concurred, "Don't you want to keep a bit for yourself?"

"Not really," Thomas answered, "But I do have one request."

"Name it," Earle said, curious to what it might be.

"I want the employees of Wayne Enterprises to get first crack at the shares." Thomas informed him, "Give them a chance to invest in their own future if they want to, and then let the public consume what's left."

"Does that include the employees in the front office?" Earle asked.

Thomas smiled as he knew what Earle meant. "You've been a good friend, so yes you deserve a crack at it as much as anyone else does."

"You're going to make billions," Earle reminded him, "Tens, maybe hundreds of billions if the shares go for the right price. The fact that you're doing this might even drive them higher because you're putting the company above yourself. That in itself is an act of brilliance, and is a hell of a way to go out."

"I honestly don't care what you think about it," Thomas chided back, "All I want to know is can you do it, and how soon can it happen?"

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Earle asked, "I get this was my idea, but are you sure you want to let go of your legacy like this?"

"My legacy?" Thomas said, his tone becoming a tad harsher. "What the hell do you know about my legacy? Wait, I'll tell you what you know about my legacy: Jack and shit, and Jack left town. Everything I've done, every penny I scraped away was all for one person, and we just put him in the fucking ground! Without him, there is no legacy! No reason for me to keep running this company, because its sole purpose was for it to be handed down to him! Without Bruce, this company has no value to me. No meaning and no inspiration to carry on. So take it public and sell it all off! I want nothing to do with this company anymore! Understood?"

"Understood," Earle replied, not wanting to anger him anymore. "I can have it set up and done within a month. Will that be acceptable?"

"It will be," Thomas said, calming down a bit with a deep breath. "Thanks for coming Earle. Don't you dare set a single foot inside my fucking house; get your ass back to Wayne Tower and start up the paper work right now."

"Yes, Mr. Wayne." Earle said without hesitation. Dis-inviting him from the reception after the service made it quite clear that Thomas didn't want him there.

Thomas watched as Earle left the small cemetery and went back to his car instead of inside the manor like everyone else. As he watched the car drive away, Thomas took a deep breath and started to walk into the house himself. Things were changing, so he would have to change as well. With one less enterprise to worry about and more money than God, Thomas had the ability to select what kind of change he wanted to be and all the time in the world to think about it.


	4. Chapter 4

Business was booming at the bar and the people were dancing and having a good time at the club, unaware of the criminal activities that were going on in the back rooms. The Don who owned this club was content to sit at his table, enjoying a drink while watching his place make a profit hand over fist. Despite the spats being made by some new competition, the Don wasn't very concerned. Quite the opposite, he was confident and had no reason to fear anyone. He had detectives in his pocket, politicians looking the other ay as long as the campaign war chest was fed on a regular basis. Gotham was ripe for the taking, and at the moment no one was more capable of pillaging the city with more efficiency than Carmine Falcone. While the night was going well, it took an unanticipated twist when a man came strolling up to his table and stood there, waiting to be noticed. It took Falcone a few moments to realize who it was and when he did, a smile creased the Don's face as he was aware of what was going on.

"Doctor Wayne," he said, looking up at the man. He was dressed in a suit but the tie wasn't there and the shirt was open a few buttons. "And for what reason gives me the pleasure of your company?"

"You know why I'm here," Thomas replied, his face as cold as ice.

"I do," Falcone said as he polished off his drink and put the glass down. "Before we get started, I wanted to pass along my condolences. A terrible loss, Doctor Wayne."

"Thank you," Thomas replied, "But I'm not a doctor anymore, so Thomas will be fine from here on."

"Okay, Thomas." Falcone said, "Care to have a seat?"

"Sure," Thomas said as he sat across from the mafia don. "I came her to return something to you."

He pulled something out of his trench coat and placed it on the table. "Your man dropped it while he was beating up a young man with a limp. What the hell did that kid do to piss you off? Did he forget to deliver your newspaper?"

"That a little shit works for my new competition," Falcone answered, "I was wondering who had attacked my men. I had heard of that masked man wearing body armor beating up criminals around town. Never in my life would I suspect it was you, Thomas."

"Things are changing in this city," Thomas replied.

"That they are," Falcone concurred, "And they always will. The day you stop noticing the changes, is when you time in this city ends. So what do you want from me? Do you think it was my purse snatchers that killed your boy?"

"That's not a bad theory," Thomas replied, "Jim thought so for a while."

"Well it wasn't," Falcone replied, "I do not target children. If I have a problem with you, I'll take it up with you personally. Your wife and child are innocent, and only a lazy idiot attacks with innocent bystanders around. If one of my men had done that I would have shot them myself for their utter incompetence and for breaking the rules."

"You have rules?" Thomas asked.

"I've always had rules," Falcone said, his face going a little red. "I don't hurt women or children. Never. As a father myself, I would never commit such a terrible act since it's also one of my greatest fears. I'm a straight shooter Thomas, if I had a beef with you I'd look you in the eyes and take it up with you personally you like a man."

"So you didn't do it," Thomas repeated, "Why should I believe you?"

"Because Jim Gordon believes me," Falcone replied, "And he believes me enough to ask for my help with his investigation. I've been asking around and even offered a reward to anyone on the street that brings Jim and I information that breaks the case."

"Why would you do that?" Thomas asked.

"I already told you," Falcone answered, "I'm also a father. Kids are off limits in my city, I told that to all the Dons years ago when I took over. Someone just stepped out of line and when I find that son-of-a-bitch, Gordon can have what's left of him after I make an example of that piece of human garbage."

"I believe you," Thomas said, as he could tell by the tone of the Don's voice that Falcone was almost as disgusted by Bruce's death as he was.

"I'm very sorry Thomas," Falcone said, a sincere look into his eyes. "Jim and I will find out who did this, and if you want first dibs… that can be arranged."

"I like the way you thing, Carmine." Thomas said, "But I also came here to discuss business, not that we got that issue out of the way."

"What kind of business?" Falcone asked. "Didn't you just sell that massive company of yours?"

"I did," Thomas confirmed, "And now I'd like to use that money to start a new business and make even more money, and I'd like you to help me with it."

"What kind of business are we talking about?" Falcone inquired.

"Gambling," Thomas answered, "I'm sure you're having fun with this front, but wouldn't you like to have one that makes a fuck ton more cash?"

"You're suggesting a Casino?" Falcone said, surprised to even hear the suggestion. "It will never happen. The city doesn't give out gambling licenses."

"Well... not to you," Thomas replied, smiling. "But Thomas Wayne, former CEO of Wayne Enterprises, accepted on the first try. You're looking at the owner of the only legal gambling license in Gotham to be issued in over twenty years."

"Then what do you need me for?" Falcone asked, impressed just a bit.

"I want to be partners," Thomas admitted, "This after hours work that I'm doing isn't going to slow down, not when I'm just getting started. I'm going to need someone who knows how to handle something like a Casino to run the show. You seem like the kind of guy that others will think many times before trying to screw over too."

"Color me surprised," Falcone said, smiling. "This was the last thing I expected you to talk about. What's in it for me?"

"Thirty percent," Thomas replied, "But you'll have to legally buy your way into he business so it doesn't arouse suspicion."

"I've got a fairly sized nest egg," Falcone replied, "Been saving it for a rainy day, and it looks like its pouring opportunity."

"I've only got a few conditions," Thomas informed him.

"Name them," Falcone said, waiting for them.

"Continue the no kid policy," Thomas told him, "But expand that to drugs as well. No dealing to anyone under twenty-one, understood?"

"Make it twenty and you have a deal," Falcone replied, which was alright with him. He already didn't sell to anyone under eighteen so two more years was fine. "Anything else?"

"I want the casino up and running in six months." Thomas said.

"Are you insane?" Falcone replied, "Just construction alone would take years!"

"I already have a location and it's will only need minimal work to transition it into a functioning hotel and casino." Thomas replied, "It can be ready in six months."

"Where is this place?" Falcone asked.

"Just on the outskirts of town, in a good area." Thomas replied, "There will be plenty of space for parking and guests."

"I get it," Falcone said, smiling as he figured it out. "Wayne Manor. You're going to turn your own house into a casino. That's why the city approved your license, because your location will almost be out of town and not in everyone's faces. Minimal exposure, but then again just your reputation will bring all the heavy rollers from Gotham and around the world to your place. It's actually quite brilliant."

"So are you in?" Thomas asked.

"I am," Falcone said, as he could barely believe it himself. "But I have condition of my own."

"Name it," Thomas said, waiting for his terms.

"If I or one of my people do something you don't approve of," Falcone started, "You approach me and tell me to my face, and give me a chance to clean it up myself. No more beating my guys up in body armor. If my boys cross a line, the beating I give them will make what you're doing look like a walk in the damn park. You tell me and I'll take care of it."

"That seems fair," Thomas said, "We seem to have struck a bargain."

"It's appears we have," Falcone concurred, "So what are we going to call the place?"

"It already has a name," Thomas replied, "Why mess with something that's already well known?"

"Good point," Falcone said, laughing. "But don't you think the boys at Wayne Enterprises will not like their name being used that way, for gambling I mean."

"Do I look like I give a damn what they think?" Thomas countered with a question of his own. "They can't tell me what to do with my name, especially when it's already on the damn house."

"Sounds good to me," Falcone said, eager to get started. "So how soon do you want to start prepping the place?"

"First thing tomorrow morning," Thomas said as he stood up, "Have your best overpaid, unionized workers there at eight."

"I prefer to start on Monday," Falcone said, "Give me a few days to get everything in order, and follow through on plans I already have with my own family. I'm also going to read my men the riot act to get our new deal pushed into their thick skulls. When the weekend is out, we'll get to work."

"Sounds good to me," Thomas replied, "I'll make sure the manor is cleared and ready by the time you get there.

Falcone stood up as well and offered Thomas his hand to shake. "A pleasure doing business with you Mr. Wayne. I have the feeling this is going to work out quite well for the both of us."

"Thank you, Carmine." Thomas said, shaking his hand. "It will work out just fine so long as you don't piss me off."

"Duly noted, Thomas." Falcone said, smiling. "Duly noted."


	5. Chapter 5

While Carmine's union workers were very expensive, the results they brought couldn't be denied. Wayne Manor was changed to a classy casino in less than six months, a few weeks ahead of schedule. The manor already looked like a palace, and that's what was going to draw the deep pockets in to spend money. On opening night, high rollers from all over the world didn't hesitate to fly into Gotham to check the place out. The place was a success even beyond Thomas and Carmine's inflated expectations. Thomas wasn't kidding when he said the place would be making a fuck ton of cash, as the casino wheeled in more income than Carmine's club had in an entire year. While the Manor was being turned into a money-making machine, Thomas used the same construction to hide work that was being done below the manor, as he constructed a headquarters or the work he was going to proceed with as a vigilante. For the first few months, Thomas wore the body armor with a ski-mask but it really didn't have the effect he wanted it to have. He remembered something Falcone said at the dinner table one night while they were doing a casino powwow over pasta and wine.

"A mask is fine, you need to hide who you are. I get it." Falcone said, "But anyone can put a mask on, which means you're being too anonymous. When you approach someone, even though you want your actual identity masked… you still want those punks to know what kind of beating they're about to get without having to explain it first. You need to create a character, a persona. Then when someone meets you in an alley, they'll shit their pants on sight and might even sing like bird and give up the creep they're working for."

Although Thomas would never admit it, Carmine was right. Just appearing with the body gear and a mask wasn't having the reaction he wanted it to. It took too long for some of these criminals to realize what's going on and by then, their asses are usually already kicked. He was going to have to spruce things up, give the body armor a persona as Falcone had suggested. Thomas had no idea what kind of persona he was going to use, and spent most of that night thinking about it in the cave. And after he spent the whole night down there pondering over idea with a bottle of crown, there was a noise that made him jump. Thomas had no idea what it was, but had to make sure it wasn't an intruder or someone lost from the casino. He checked the elevator from the bookcase in the den, but there was no one there. Then he checked the passage through the grandfather clock on the other side of the manor and there was still nothing. He heard the sound again, and it was coming from the other side of the cave. A part that Thomas hadn't actually taken the time to explore. He walked into a tunnel that led him towards the location of the sound. He was about halfway through the tunnel, when the source of the sound came at him. A flock of bats came scrambling through the cave, and Thomas covered his face and patiently waited as they all flew past him and into the main part of the cave to find a place to sleep. When the bats were all gone, there was a light coming from the end of the tunnel. As he walked closer, Thomas was able to identify the source. It was the old well, and when Thomas reached the landing he looked up and instantly recognized it. He had been in this exact spot several months ago. The rope he used to shimmy himself down was still there, as he never took the time to come back to clean up. He looked down at the ground and remember what had happened. Bruce was playing and he didn't see the hole and had fallen into the unused well. When he didn't return for supper, he and Alfred looked all over the place for him and it was the old butler that found him. Thomas grabbed a rope and repelled down to the bottom of the well to fetch his son. He could still remember the look on Bruce's face when his father came down the zip line to save him. He had been crying but he was smiling ear to ear, happy to see his old man.

"Hey there sport," Thomas said, as he reached the bottom. "You managed to give everyone quite the scare."

"I'm sorry," Bruce said, feeling ashamed.

"It's okay Bruce," Thomas said, scuffing his hair tenderly. "There appears to be plenty of blame to go around. I should have had this area fenced off a long time ago. There are a lot more pitfalls around here, I'm just happy to see you're unhurt."

"Just my ego," Bruce confessed.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, son." Thomas said, "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Sure," Bruce replied, as he was curious.

"Tell me Bruce," Thomas started, "Why do we fall?"

"It was an accident," Bruce said, "I swear!"

"That's not what I meant," Thomas said, smiling at him. "I mean why do we fall at all in life, not just here. The answer is so that we can learn how to pick ourselves back up. We learn to do better, and be better people."

"Oh," Bruce said, as he thought about it for a moment. "That's pretty cool."

"I have my moments," Thomas said, as he inspected his son for broken bones. "You seem to be alright for the most part. Wanna lift outta here?"

"Yes please," Bruce answered.

His father leaned over and kissed the boy's brow. "Alright, let's get outta here…"

Thomas stood there at the bottom of the well, alone. The memory of what had happened there was still fresh in his mind. Bruce was unharmed that day but he was scared of what had happened before he showed up. The young boy let his mother know a few days later that a bunch of bats flew around and past him in the well, probably the same bats that just rushed him just then. For a young boy that had to be a terrifying experience, and it was this moment when Thomas was inspired to create the persona. A few days after finding the bats in the well, Thomas' new costume was ready to make his first appearance in Gotham. That particular night, two muggers, a rapist and stalker were all soundly beaten up by a vigilante… dressed as a bat. Thomas decided to share what was his son's fear of bats with the criminals of Gotham's underworld and yet a few nights after he stared wearing it the media didn't hesitate to give him a name and the Batman was born.

Thomas took advantage of the new persona and the name the media had given him, creating a logo of a bat standing on red circle, as well as a new mask with pointy ears that made him impossible to identify. But to the criminals who were attacked, the person handing them their asses was not impossible to mistake. It gave Thomas the presence he wanted when confronting scum on the streets of Gotham, as many crooks would tuck tail and run upon seeing him land in their alley. Thomas was pleased with the Bat persona, thinking that it was fitting to share Bruce's fear of bat with the underworld of Gotham. Soon every one of them will be afraid to walk the streets at night, afraid of the big bad bat.

Thomas returned to the cave and took the elevator up to the casino to resume his alibi, when he had an unexpected guest waiting for him in his office. Falcone was there sitting on a chair, and his face upon seeing the secret door in the bookshelf in action was quite priceless.

"So that's how you've been getting out," Carmine said, standing up to look at it. "So while everyone thinks you're up here, you're out kicking some ass."

"I have a tech put my video on loop," Thomas said, pointing to the camera on the ceiling. "If the police ever ask where I was, I have video to prove it."

"Very nice," Carmine said, "But speaking of the police, Jim Gordon and his partner are downstairs. They want to speak with you."

"How long have they been here?" Thomas asked.

"Less than thirty minutes," Falcone replied, "I said you were on an important call, but the insisted on waiting."

"Did they tell you what it was about?" Thomas inquired.

"They did not," Falcone replied, "I'll watch the floor, and you take care of it."

Thomas cleaned up in the bathroom in his office, and then descended the massive staircase to the lobby where he spotted Detective Gordon standing there waiting for him.

"Jim," Thomas said as he came into earshot, "I apologize for keeping you guys waiting. I hope you haven't been here too long."

"You haven't," Jim replied, "This is my partner, Harvey Bullock."

"Pleased to meet you, detective." Thomas shaking his hand.

"Pleasure is mine, Doctor Wayne." Harvey replied. "Where's that British chap you always had around here... what was his name again?"

"Alfred," Jim replied.

"Mr. Pennyworth moved back to England," Thomas replied, "He didn't like the plans I had for the manor, and resigned in protest."

"A shame," Gordon said, "I thought he was rather nice."

"He was," Thomas agreed, "I was sad to see him go, but he also wasn't the same since the shooting in the alley."

"That's also why we're here," Gordon said, "We need to speak in private. It's rather important."

"Come upstairs and we'll talk in my office." Thomas said, gesturing up the stairs.

The two detectives followed him back up to his office and once the two men were seated, Thomas walked over to his mini bar and poured himself a drink.

"Gentlemen?" Thomas said, holding up the bottle.

"No thanks," Gordon said first, "We're on duty."

"Fair enough," Thomas said as he sat down behind his desk. "So spill it Jim, what's got you and your partner all fired up?"

"It's about your wife," Bullock answered, giving it to his straight. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"Martha?" Thomas said, as the question came out of left field for him. "I'd have to say about three weeks."

"Is it unusual for you to wait so long between visits?" Gordon asked, "I'm not implying anything, I just need to know."

"She started work with a new doctor." Thomas confessed, "Some dude with a weird name, I remember his first name was Hugo."

"Yes, Doctor Hugo Strange." Bullock confirmed.

"Doctor Strange, what a ridiculous name." Thomas said, chuckling. "Anyway, the good doctor asked me to give her a month of space. He wanted to start a new treatment and didn't want her to be distracted. Why do you ask?"

"There was a prison break at Arkham last night." Gordon answered, "Over a dozen inmates broke out in the middle of the night and their absence wasn't noticed until the morning check."

"Wait," Thomas said, as he sat up in his chair. "Was Martha one of the people that escaped last night?"

"She was," Gordon confirmed, "And since the escape we have not been able to locate Doctor Strange, we feel he might be a hostage but cannot also rule out the possibility that he might have also been an accomplice."

"What makes you say that?" Thomas asked.

"All the patients that escaped," Bullock answered, "Were all being treated by Hugo Strange. He's the common link, and he didn't show up for work today."

"Son of a bitch," Thomas said, as he hopped out of his chair and walked over to the big window that had an amazing view of Gotham's skyline. "So what you're telling me is Martha is out there, wandering on her own and bat shit crazy."

"I'm afraid so," Gordon replied, "But we'll do whatever we can to bring her back in unharmed. We'll get her back to Gotham as soon as we can."

"But if she attempts to contact you," Bullock added, "We'd appreciate a heads up so that we can try to trace or use whatever she tells you to find her or Strange."

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention," Thomas said turning back to face them. "I will do anything in my power to assist you."

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne." Gordon said as they shook hands. "If we hear anything, we'll get back to you."

"Good luck, detective." Thomas said, watching the two men leave the room. He stood there processing what he was just told, and the moment the two men were down the stairs and out of his sight... Thomas drained the glass he was drinking, opened the secret door and went back to the cave. He knew exactly where she was going.


	6. Chapter 6

Thomas descended back into the cave and dressed up in his new armor. He had never been more dedicated to go back out, aware of what was no out there and how dangerous it was for him and the escaped patients. The car was still being built by the mechanic, so Thomas too a jet-black motorcycle out of the cave and towards Gotham. It took him less than a half hour to get into town, and even less to ride downtown. As he was speeding into town after departing the makeshift cave, all Thomas could think about was what happened to Martha. He could remember her sitting there in the middle of the alley, with their dead son lying on her lap. It was an image he couldn't get out of his head for a while but it returned as hew as riding towards that part of town. He knew Martha would be there, the only question was would anyone from the breakout be there with her?

As he crawled down the staircase from the roof and into the alley that was forever etched into his brain. The same alley where he son died, where he lost Bruce. Thomas was standing on the last ledge above the alley when he first spotted her. A lone woman standing in the exact spot where Bruce was slain. She was on her knees, and Thomas could hear her crying from the ledge. When he jumped down from the last platform onto the ground, the sound of his feet hitting the ground startled her. She jumped up for a moment but didn't turn. She kept her composure and remained sitting on the ground.

"I don't know who you are," she started, "but I am mourning. Take your leave or face my wrath."

"Martha," he called out to her. "It's me."

Upon hearing his voice, the woman's head lifted up as she recognized his voice.

"Thomas?" she called out.

She turned to face him, and they were both shocked by the person that was looking back at each other. Martha's face was painted white, and she had cut her face to extend her lips, making it look like she had a very big grin. Her hair was dyed green and she was wearing a purple suit. Thomas was also very different as the cowl, the black armor and the symbol of a bat in the middle of his chest were all a dead giveaway. He was the vigilante the press was calling the Batman.

"You've changed," She told him, "The hero to save other kids from suffering the same fate that befell our Bruce?"

"Maybe," Thomas said as he walked closer, "But no amount of kids that I save could ever make up for the one time I failed to defend him. I'm so sorry."

"I don't care how sorry you are!" she roared at him, "I want my son back!"

She pulled a knife and tried to ram it into Thomas' stomach. He grabbed her by the wrist, and stopped her before she could stab him, and then flipped her onto her back before tossing the knife away in disgust.

"I'd do anything to take it all back," Thomas told her, "But I can't."

"That's your opinion," a voice called out.

Thomas turned to face the man who spoke the words and sneered at him.

"Doctor Hugo Strange, I presume?" he called out.

"Correct," the doctor replied, "And I could write a whole book about how you're grieving the loss of your son, Doctor Wayne. This bat projection is not healthy."

"Neither is the beating I'm about to give you." Thomas retorted.

"Is that so?" Doctor Strange replied, "My friends might have some objections to that course of action."

"You mean your other patients?" Thomas corrected him.

"Semantics," Strange relied with a grin. "Take care of him. I want him alive."

Thomas watched as other patients, very large ones, emerged from the darkness and attacked the Batman with ferocity. Thomas used their weight to fend off their advances and toss them aside, just long enough to kick the other away and turn back to the previous opponent. The other thug pulled a gun, but Thomas pulled a bat shaped projectile and threw it at him. As it knocked the gun out of his hands, the doctor looked at it and loudly sighed.

"That's borderline obsessive," he observed, "Someone has bats on the mind."

"That's my issue, and I'm dealing with it." Thomas said as he tossed another thug against the wall with authority. "You're coming with me. I'm taking you all back to Arkham."

"Is that so?" Doctor Strange repeated as he was slightly amused. "I have a feeling she doesn't want to go back."

Thomas spun around just as Martha came at him with a new knife, slicing at air as she again tried to cut up her husband.

"This isn't funny anymore, Martha." Thomas told her as he backed away.

"Oh I disagree," Martha replied as her grin looked enormous, "The whole world is just one big sick joke. You can't see the punchline, but you will soon."

"Never," Thomas spat back at her, "You're fucking nuts."

"Maybe," Martha said, as she let out a psychotic laugh, "but when it's all said and done, I'll have the last laugh."

Without warning, she tossed a smoke bomb at the ground and in the chaos she and her cohorts all escaped, including Doctor Strange. Thomas stood there as the smoke faded away and clinched his fists in frustration. Bringing Martha and her fellow escapees was going to be a lot more difficult to accomplish. She has truly flipped her and finally lost every marble she had left. As he stood there, someone else came running down the alley.

"Freeze!" Jim Gordon called out, gun raised. "Don't move!"

Thomas turned around and faced Gordon, allowing him to see the Batman for the very first time. Gordon looked at him with a face of absolute shock, and that was the break Thomas needed as he used a grappling hook to rise to the roof of the building and away. Gordon watched as the bat raised to the roof and Harvey saw it too as he caught up.

"What the hell is that?" Harvey asked, wheezing for breath.

"The Batman." Gordon replied, "He's a big bastard too."

"Is he on our side?" Harvey asked.

"I sure hope so," Gordon answered, "Cause we could use some more friends."


End file.
